Many a hand has scaled the grand old face of the plateau Some belong to strangers, and some to folks you know Holy ghosts and talk show hosts are planted in the sand To beautify the foothills, and shake the many hands Nothing on the top but a bucket and a mop And an illustrated book about birds You see a lot up there but don't be scared Who needs action when you got words When you've finished with the mop, then you can stop And look at what you've done The plateau's clean, no dirt to be seen And the work, it was fun Nothing on the top but a bucket and a mop And an illustrated book about birds You see a lot up there but don't be scared Who needs action when you got words Many hands began to scan around for the next plateau Some said it was Greenland, and some say Mexico Others decided it was nowhere except for where they stood But those were all just guesses Wouldn't help you if they could